“You mustn’t do it.”
“It sorter looks as if it can’t be helped, captain.”
“I shall prevent it.”
“How?”
“Thus!”
The captain had laid down his rifle and drawn his revolver, in the use of which he was an expert. While thus engaged, he stooped down, so that the interposing body of the mule, prevented the Indian from observing what he was doing. When his weapon was ready and just as he uttered his last word, he straightened up like a flash. Adams being of short stature and in a stooping posture, gave him just the chance he needed. His single arm was extended with the quickness of lightning and he fired. The bullet bored its way through the 208 bronzed skull of the Indian, who, with an ear-splitting screech, flung his arms aloft, leaped several feet from the ground, toppled sideways over the edge of the trail and went tumbling, rolling and doubling down the precipice far beyond sight, into the almost fathomless abyss below.
“That’s what I call a low down trick!” was the disgusted exclamation of Adams, looking round with a reproachful expression.
“Do you refer to the Indian?” asked the captain.
“No; to you; I had just got ready for him and had everything fixed when you interfered.”
“Vose, you are a fool,” was the comment of his friend.